


Forgive me Father, for I have Sinned

by StabMeLikeYouMeanIt



Series: Mattie's Big Adventure [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Nothing explicit, Past Child Abuse, Past France/Canada, Past Prussia/Canada, Repressed Memories, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, mentions of abuse are very vague, slight transphobia in flashbacks, this series isn't very happy, transtalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StabMeLikeYouMeanIt/pseuds/StabMeLikeYouMeanIt
Summary: When Canada joins France for a meeting, he is approached by someone he hasn't seen in years. Repressed memories resurface, and suddenly everything starts to make sense.
Relationships: Canada/Netherlands (Hetalia)
Series: Mattie's Big Adventure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611304
Kudos: 19





	Forgive me Father, for I have Sinned

**Author's Note:**

> okay so uh brief tw for mentions of past child abuse, it's not graphic at all but be careful if you're sensitive to that sort of thing

It was early, too early for anyone in the house to be up except the small figure curled up in the study, reading by candlelight. Sure, he could have easily turned on a lamp, but Mathieu preferred using candles- it projected less light into the hallway and reminded him of simpler times, bringing back memories of the mid-1800s when he was a young child being read to by Francis in the evening before bed. It was times like this when the young man felt most at peace, unbothered by his needs or thoughts, able to forget everything and fall into another world through a book. The early hours of morning slipped away before he realised it, practically jumping out of his skin when the door opened and Francis stepped through, already dressed for work. "Mathieu? _Mon Dieu_ , what are you doing up so early?" he asked softly, worry gracing his face as he made his way over to the couch. Mathieu sat up quickly, reaching for the hem of his shirt to tug it down before remembering how dark it was and deciding against it. "Are you feeling ill, _mon chère_?"

Mathieu shook his head, setting his book aside. "No papa, I'm okay. I just couldn't sleep, that's all," he answered politely, making room for the other to sit. "Why're you all dressed up? Do you have to go away again?"

The elder smiled, wrapping an arm around his charge lovingly. " _Oui_ , I'm afraid so. I have a meeting with some of the other nations, I have to return to France." The explanation hit Mathieu like a ton of bricks. He sank into the other's arms, burying his face into his neck and taking in the gentle cologne the other wore. Business trips were his least favourite thing, Arthur or Francis would leave for days, sometimes weeks on end to take care of business in their own countries and would leave the younger nations to stay at home.

"I don't want you to leave papa, you're always gone so long... " Mathieu argued, letting himself be held by the man of his recent fantasies. He knew he was being childish, but every once in a while he felt he had to be selfish or he would lose everyone. Francis sighed, resting his head on top of the other's as he thought over his words, fingers trailing lightly against the exposed skin of his thigh. He closed his eyes, relishing the moment as he ran his fingers up to the hem of his shirt, having to hold himself back from moving it as he ran his fingers back down the path they came. He opened his eyes slowly to look down at his charge, extremely satisfied to see him practically melting into his touch. " _Je sais, je sais_... I promise not to take long, I'll be back before you know it. Unless..." he paused, tossing around a few ideas before continuing, "Unless you want to come with me?"

Mathieu looked at him in shock, unable to help the smile that grew on his face. "Really? I could go with you? Is that allowed?" he asked quickly, heart skipping a beat when he received a kiss. "Of course Mattie! You're _mon petit fils_ , you're always welcome to come! You're old enough to join us, it will be good practice for when you come for Canada, oui?" Francis agreed, petting his hair and twisting the lone curl between his fingers, watching the younger boy shiver, "Pack, I'll get you when we're ready to leave." Mathieu nodded quickly, hugging his father before hopping off his lap and running to his room to get ready, shoving some clothes in a bag as his mind raced. He'd be joining the meeting in France; no Alfred, no Arthur, no trail of his recent sexual excursions, just time with Francis in his native country with no interruptions, what could be better?

Upon landing in France the pair traveled to the small cottage home in Toulouse where they would reside for the duration of the trip. Mathieu couldn't help but skip along the path to the house, overcome by joy at the fact of being back in France- the last time he had been in their little home was when he was a child, still just a colony of the Kingdom of France. So much had changed since then, yet the countryside remained the same, a reminder of times long past. It wasn't long after he had started unpacking however that they had to leave for Strasbourg to reach the meeting. "It's most convenient, easiest for everyone to travel to," Francis explained on the way, Mathieu only understanding once they arrived.

The city laid on the French-German border, fitting as the nations in attendance were Germany and his brother Prussia, Spain, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg; a rather small meeting compared to how many countries some meetings contained, but just large enough to make Mathieu self-conscious as he took a seat beside Francis. He felt out of place among the older nations, each dressed in suits or formal wear befitting their home while he was just in the nicest clothes he had, leggings and a light tunic. Throughout the meeting he tried his best to pay attention, unable to ignore the feeling of eyes on him. Every now and then he would glance around the table, catching the eye of the smoking Dutchman occasionally, but always seeing the albino man across the table staring holes into him. The first time their eyes caught, the man gave him a toothy grin, almost threatening to the young man who couldn't figure out the look he was receiving. Mathieu tried to keep his eyes on the table or speaker, unable to help himself from glancing at the strange man he knew to be the Netherlands- he was an odd character, clothing disheveled compared to the others, looking as though he was barely paying attention, more invested in his pipe than the conversation. Something about him was hypnotizing to the young man, stealing glances at him whenever he could.

During the break Mathieu excused himself, eager to walk the halls and sort out his thoughts. He wandered without direction as he thought, chewing on his bottom lip. Being here could be just the chance he was hoping for to have alone time with Francis; he could try to get closer to him, try to make fantasy a reality... or he could take it easy and treat this as a vacation, get away from the events of the past few weeks and just try to be the old Mathieu again; no one knew about his and Alfred's "quality time", no one knew about his sexual excursions, he could forget about it all and try to live a normal life again- he snapped out of his thoughts when he felt an arm snake around his waist, looking up to find himself joined by the albino man, one of his father's longtime friends. "Oh! H-hello Mr. Beilschmidt!" he greeted kindly, smiling at the once-nation.

"Bah, so formal! Just call me Gilbert!" the man boasted, pulling the other closer, "Or you can call me whatever you want~" Mathieu smiled, not bothered by the flirting in the slightest. He had always been used to his father's friends being like this, they were all so close already he didn't mind Spain and Prussia speaking to him that way. To others it might have seemed inappropriate, but those people would also consider the close relationship he and France had to be inappropriate as well; they were usually very comfortable with each other and didn't see touching or kissing as much more than another way of showing appreciation for each other. Of course, once or twice he had wondered why France was only so affectionate with him, but it never really seemed like a topic that needed investigating. "So," Gilbert continued, hand languidly roaming over the other's hip, "what're you doing back in Europe?"

"P-papa asked me to come, he said it w-would be good practice," Mathieu explained, blushing slightly at the double meaning of his words," P-practice for when I attend as Canada!" He hoped that addition didn't reveal anything; Gilbert didn't seem to notice, occupied with examining the smaller nation's figure. The hand on his waist snuck under his tunic, causing him to jump from the cold touch. "M-Mister- I mean, Gilbert?" He squeaked out, trying to ignore the rush of excitement that coursed through him, mentally steeling himself against any inappropriate thoughts.

Gilbert chuckled, leaning in closer "I know a few things we could practice~ You've grown into such a beautiful girl, birdie..."

Mathieu's heart skipped a beat as time froze, the words echoing through his head as a memory resurfaced: _The room was dark, young Mathieu could hear his papa and Señor Antonio singing from the living room. He was tucked into bed, trying to fall asleep when his door creaked open, a ray of light illuminating the dusk. A figure slipped in, quietly shutting the door. Mathieu sat up, trying to see who or what it was; he was gently pushed back down on the bed, the scent of liquor almost suffocating as the person leaned over him. "You're such a beautiful girl, birdie..."_

"I-I'm sorry Mr. Beilschmidt, I have to go!" he spoke quickly, running down the hall in the opposite direction. Tears blurred his vision as he raced through the halls, not noticing where he was or which way he needed to go. No matter what he did, how long he'd live, he would never escape the past, never escape his past self; he would never just be Mathieu, he'd always be remembered as Madeline, never escape the torrent of hatred coming his way, helpless against this resurfacing memory and it's implications- Everything stopped when he slammed into someone, stumbling backwards and preparing to run off before his arm was grabbed. He looked up, barely able to make out the figure in front of him. "I-I-I'm s-sorry..."

The tall man looked down at him, about to chide the child when he noticed the tears streaming down his face, glasses askew from being shoved out of the way to wipe away the tears. One could hear the annoying Prussian shouting from not too far away, the sound of his approaching voice making the short boy quiver in fear. Instead he was silent, weighing his options before leading the shaking boy into an empty waiting room, sitting him on the nearest available seat and giving his shoulder a friendly pat. "You will be okay." The simple phrase caused Mathieu to burst out in a new round of tears, automatically clinging to the man out of instinct. He hid his face in the others chest as he sobbed, hands gripping the tan coat as if he'd be ripped away. This caused the Dutch man to pause, seating himself on the arm of the couch before resting a hand on the mess of blond hair. He wasn't accustomed to comforting anyone, really, except his younger sister but had enough experience with people breaking down to know this was all he needed to do for the emotional child. He said nothing, letting Mathieu get it out of his system, emotion built up over months of inner conflict. All he had recently gone through with Alfred, his sudden inappropriate thoughts about his father, with questioning himself, not being able to control it, was it all tied to that night? Why now, when for so many years he had completely forgotten about it?

"Why did he...?" Mathieu's voice cracked and a fresh wave of tears hit him, clinging to the taller man like a child as he rode out the emotions. The Dutchman was conflicted, did he offer support or remain indifferent? Normally, things like this were none of his business, but this felt different, more important than just an emotionally unstable kid. He could only make assumptions as to why he was crying, but had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with that albino.

"I-I'm so s-sorry..." Mathieu whispered at last, trying to keep his emotions in check when the man who had let him cry rubbed his back, responding only with "Breathe." The Canadian took a few deep breathes, body shaking from the mental exhaustion he caused himself. With each inhale the scent of the older man encompassed him; natural, calming, with the faint hint of weed. He faded in and out of consciousness, hardly registering the other moving away with the promise of returning with water before he passed out.

_Such a beautiful young woman, birdie  
Be good now, Mädchen  
So small... don't be afraid  
Your skin is so soft  
..beautiful birdie  
Wait until he gets a look at you  
You love us, don't you?  
Your turn, Fran...  
Such a beautiful **girl**... Don't ever tell Arthur_

Mathieu jolted awake with a scream, panting as if he had run a marathon, blurry faces fading away as he tried to regain his composure, scared out of his mind; he jumped at the sound of a door opening, gripping his cover tightly. "Mathieu? _Mon petit_?" a voice called, "There you are! What happened, are you-" he paused, walking closer. "Where did you get that?"

Confused, Mathieu looked down at himself- he was curled up beneath a large tan coat, certainly not his or Francis', and it wasn't until he sat up that the scent hit him: natural, calming, with the faint hint of weed. "Mister... Mr. Netherlands, I think" is all he could manage, the impulse to bury his face in it creeping up on him in time to the faint blush rising up his neck. Francis frowned, anger flashing through his eyes before taking up the role of concerned parent. "Did he... overstep boundaries?" he asked quickly, trying to phrase it as lightly as he could for his dear innocent son. Face flushed, Mathieu stumbled over his words. "P-papa!"

"Of course not. Who do you think I am?"

The deep voice filled the room, causing Francis to whip around and face the man hovering in the doorway. The Dutch man entered, taking measured steps towards the red-faced teen. He grabbed his chin lightly, turning his head from side-to-side to examine him. "You are okay now?" he said, more a statement than an actual question. Receiving a shy nod, he patted his cheek before turning back to the Frenchman who was glaring holes into him, eyes laced with distrust. "You? I have no faith in," Francis responded coolly, "Especially concerning my son. He doesn't need to be around people like you, Abelsson." At this the taller scoffed, moving to stand directly in front of the other. "I would take more care in who you choose as friends, Bonnefoy."

A small body inserted itself between them, trying to create some distance. Mathieu looked up at the Netherlands gratefully, offering his jacket back. "T-Thank you for hel-helping me earlier, M-Mister Abels- Abelsson," he mumbled, receiving another gentle touch to his cheek, having to use all his willpower not to lean into the touch and ask for more. His eyes fluttered shut regardless as his thumb brushed along his cheek, and the heavy coat was taken from him. "Red eyes gives you trouble, come find me." That was all he was left with as his hero left the room, leaving him with a tingling warmth in his face and the scent of something natural, calming, and the faint hint of weed.

Francis fumed, grabbing his son's arm as he walked out, pulling him along. "That greedy ass spouts nothing but lies, Mathieu! Stay away from him."


End file.
